


All the Time in the World

by acosmist_t



Series: Draco Malfoy One Shots [11]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:35:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28331001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acosmist_t/pseuds/acosmist_t
Summary: When you trip on Draco’s shoe and get a different reaction than you expected.-a.k.a. Draco has some unresolved trauma that he struggles to open up about
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Reader
Series: Draco Malfoy One Shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2020781
Kudos: 58





	All the Time in the World

**Author's Note:**

> Word Count: 963
> 
> Warnings: Past childhood abuse/trauma, trying (and failing) to open up, fluffy ending
> 
> a/n: hitting you with that short drabble because yeah

“ _Shit_!” you cursed loudly, tripping over something and falling to the ground unceremoniously. You turned back and saw the culprit to be your own boyfriend’s shoe, left just as unceremoniously in the middle of the floor.

Draco appeared immediately in the doorway, taking a careful few steps forward, concern lining his face. “What happened?”

“Your shoe is what happened. You left it out and I tripped on it.” You rolled your ankle in hesitant circles, testing how much you could move it without any pain. Based on the growing ache and size, you could tell that calling a Healer was your only alternative.

“I’m sorry,” Draco said, walking toward you slowly. The sound of his voice made you pause—it was tighter than usual, spiked with something you couldn’t identify. He bent down in front of you, and you didn’t miss the tenseness of his shoulders as he looked at your ankle.

His behavior had shifted entirely, and you had to wait for your anger to lower before responding, “It’s fine.”

Draco’s body went taut at the irritation still plaguing your tone. But you weren’t mad at him, only peeved with the fact that the rest of your day would have to be put on pause because of your new injury. You stretched forward cautiously, and Draco froze, shutting his eyes tight.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, his body constricted, almost as if in preparation for something.

“Are you okay?”

He opened his eyes slowly, flushing deeply, and stammered, “Sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

You cursed yourself as he withdrew himself further; it was like he was trying to become as small as possible. You breathed in and assured him, “Darling, it’s okay, I’m not mad.”

He smiled tightly, but you saw a hint of fear remain in his eyes. “No, I understand why you would be. I’m a mess and I left my-”

“Draco,” you cut him off again, albeit softer than last time. You pulled your knees in, being mindful of your swelling ankle, so you could sit closer to him. Your pace was slow, and so was your voice as you asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You had seen enough of his childhood and reactions to recognize what had happened. How his body was still tense, readying for some type of hit or attack.

Draco knew what you were talking about, and you watched as he unwound slightly, but not fully, as his instincts started to register that he was safe. Your eyes tracked as he cracked each individual knuckle methodically; tracked each nervous tic he had.

“It was usually the cane.”

Nausea rose, and you fought back the urge to grab him, knowing just how much worse that would make it.

“He didn’t do it a lot, and it got less frequent as I got older. It was typically whenever I broke something or fucked up badly enough to cause a disruption. The Dark Lord-”

His voice cut off roughly, and his eyes fell onto your ankle. There was guilt in them, darkness floating somewhere deep in his pupils.

When Draco didn’t speak anymore, you leaned forward and inched your hand toward him, so slow that he could stop you if he wanted. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you told him gently.

“No, that’s the thing. I _want_ to tell you. I want to give you that piece of me, to show you that I can tell you about my past in the same way you tell me about yours.” His voice grew thick, and he paused before continuing, “You deserve that. But there’s something physical in me, something that stops me from saying it.”

Your heart broke a little. “I can wait. I can wait forever if you need me to. I will never ask for something you aren’t ready to give me.”

Draco opened his mouth, but no words came out. He looked like he wanted to say something, but then his breaths quickened, and you delicately put a hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing against his cheekbone tenderly.

“We can save it for later. Don’t feel pressured to tell me things because of what I tell you. We had different upbringings, Draco. And I can’t even fathom what it must’ve been like in your head, but I can feel it in other ways.”

A tear fell from his eyes, and you wiped it away steadily before you kept going. “The way you look at me, the way you touch me, the way you speak to me. I can feel it—the love. And that’s enough for now.”

His arms went around you and lifted you to be seated in his lap, your injury fading as he kissed you slowly, languidly. It was unhurried, and he said every word he hadn’t been able to speak before with the kiss.

Despite it being short-lived, you understood everything. When it broke, you kissed away the tears that had started falling, tasting the saltiness on your lips. Draco buried his head in your hair, and you rested against his chest, staring absently at your ankle.

It seemed he remembered it, too, and was silent as he stood up and helped you do the same, bringing you to sit on the nearby couch. “I’ll call for a Healer now,” he told you before walking away briefly.

You stared at his figure, grabbing his hand the moment he was at your side again, patiently waiting for the Healer that would be visiting your apartment to heal you. 

Draco pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Thank you for understanding. It means more than you could ever imagine.”

You squeezed his hand tightly. “Of course. We have all the time in the world.”


End file.
